


Pounded In The Butt By My Obnoxious Elderly Russian Colleague's Handsome Dad Who Is Also A Ghost

by hectocotyle



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Asexual Character, Consent Issues, Consentacles, Masturbation, Nonbinary Character, Omorashi, Other, Temperature Play, namely mantis's disregard for boundaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hectocotyle/pseuds/hectocotyle
Summary: The Sorrow punishes Mantis for picking on his son. This backfires spectacularly.[Written for the 2018MGS Winter Games.]





	Pounded In The Butt By My Obnoxious Elderly Russian Colleague's Handsome Dad Who Is Also A Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> angle brackets = thought-speech

<Can't I at least break one of his legs?>

<No.>

<An arm, then.>

<No.>

<A finger.>

<No.>

<A finger _nail_. >

Liquid looks up from his book, brow wrinkled. <What's this vendetta you've got against Ocelot? He's a creepy old fart, I'll grant you that, but this base is a sausage fest. Surely he can't be the only one here with depraved sexual fantasies.>

Mantis bites his lip. Telling him <Well, Eli, Ocelot wants to screw you due to essentially thinking of you as Big Boss Lite> seems just the slightest bit insensitive, true or not.

Arms hanging loose, he descends upside-down from the ceiling above Liquid's head. <He just rubs me the wrong way, that's all.>

<You look like a spider when you do that,> Liquid says, grinning up at him. <Dropping down on your line of silk.>

<Spiders are lovely creatures. I take that as a compliment.>

The subject dropped, Boss turns his attention back to his book.

Okay, fine, so Mantis is not permitted to torture or mutilate Ocelot. Big deal. He's sure he can devise other ways of making the old pervert's life miserable.

With his mind he casts about for Ocelot. Finds him strutting outside the armory, doing his stupid revolver-twirling act for the benefit of everyone he passes. God, that pretense of casual aloofness makes Mantis want to gag.

How many years has this man spent pissing on the concept of basic gun safety? It would be so easy. Have him shoot his own dick off, pass it off as an accident.

You're lucky I have orders, Mantis thinks sourly, and telekinetically pulls down Ocelot's pants.

One guy gives him a concerned glance as he walks by. Put on the spot, Ocelot makes a pained rictus of a grin and does that finger-guns thing he always does. Seems his first instinct when embarrassed is to attempt to play it off by looking cool. Too bad there's no way to look cool in your tighty whities.

<What's so funny?>

<Just this joke I remembered,> Mantis replies innocently, waiting for Ocelot to fumble his pants back into place, then pantsing him again. And again. And again. Quite the spectacle for members of the rank and file who've heard tales of Revolver Ocelot's legendary badassery.

For the finishing touch, he tweaks Ocelot's decrepit old neurons so that he'll believe his pants wouldn't stay up because he forgot to wear a belt. Weak logic, but he won't question it. No one ever does.

<Must be some joke.> Liquid raises his eyebrows at him. <Are you going to _tell_ me the joke? >

Mantis is in tears by this point. <You want me to tell you the joke? All right. I'll tell you the joke.>

While he's trying to dredge up a joke sufficiently funny to justify his hysterics, an invisible force—certainly not his own telekinesis—yanks his skintight pants off.

"Ow!" he barks. "The hell?!"

The pants flutter in midair for a moment, then thump down onto Liquid's upturned face.

<Oh, how very mature, Mantis.>

<Wh—I—I didn't do that!>

<Did you really think to yourself "I'm going to drop my pants on Boss's face" and just start cracking up over it? Good grief. A bit of free advice: Jokes are supposed to come with a punchline.>

He swoops down to indignantly snatch up his buttwear. <I'm serious, I didn't do it! It's like they had a mind of their own!>

**Not so funny when you're the one on the receiving end, is it?**

Mantis recoils with a yelp. Reflexively reaches out with his powers to size up this new presence.

Useless. No neurons to touch. No brain to hold them.

The hooded figure hovering in the air behind Liquid gives a small, knowing nod. **Your power is over the living,** he says, only he isn't speaking words. It's as though he's implanting feelings and ideas, fully-formed, right into Mantis's mind.

Mantis frantically jabs both pointer fingers in the figure's direction. <Behind you! Ghost! Ghost!>

Liquid rolls his eyes. <I'm not falling for that one again.>

<I'm telling you, there's a ghost right there and he pantsed me!>

Liquid flips to the next page of his book. <Uh-huh.>

Losing patience, Mantis uses his powers to jerk Liquid up out of his seat and _make_ him look.

Of course, by that time there's nothing there to look at.

The ghost rematerializes, his face inches from Mantis's, and for the first time he gets a good look at him.

And feels his heart break into an inelegant sprint.

**It's not nice to bully people,** the unfairly hot ghost grandpa informs him. **Don't let it happen again.** Then he returns to the great beyond, or wherever it is ghosts go when they're not busy humiliating someone.

<Put me down, Mantis,> Liquid says with that special brand of calmness that implies <Before I decide to behead you.>

Meekly he sets him back down in his chair. He even picks up his book for him.

<Thank you,> says Liquid with that same exaggerated patience, and once more resumes reading.

Feeling a little lightheaded, Mantis drifts up to the ceiling, lies with his back flat against it, and just stares at the floor awhile.

\----------

He strikes again the next day, while Liquid and Ocelot are sitting at a table in the rec room discussing some boring military crap Mantis doesn't care about.

"And that, Boss, is why I think a more efficient use of our resources... would..."

Abject horror dawns on Ocelot's wizened face. The legs of his chair screech as he thrusts himself away from the table. A quick glance at the crotch of his pants confirms his fears.

Liquid's eyes follow Ocelot's. "Oh sweet Christ on a cracker. You do realize there's such a thing as adult diapers?"

"I'll have you know this has never happened before," Ocelot snaps, desperately trying to conceal the growing dark stain with his hands, not having much success.

Alone in the room he shares with Liquid, Mantis quakes with laughter... and anticipation.

The payoff is better than he could have hoped. Not only does the ghost show up again, he stays to watch as he makes Mantis lose control of his bladder, disapproval etched on his handsome mature features.

His strangely familiar handsome mature features, come to think of it.

But that's not important.

**As many times as it takes,** the ghost warns him before vanishing, leaving Mantis floating there in his piss-soaked pants. The ancient, worn-out pants he'd exhumed from the bottom of the drawer just for this occasion.

He could be a glass jar full of enraged bees, the way his skin is buzzing. He snakes his hand down to the damp fabric between his thighs. Slowly squeezes himself.

Filthy fantasies. The ghost forcing him to piss himself in front of Liquid—something he's never quite worked up the courage to suggest to Boss (outside of his imagination, anyway). Liquid and the ghost tag-team groping him, gently mocking his lack of control. Not permitting him to cum because he's been such a naughty boy.

He lifts his mask and bites down on his free hand to keep from crying out.

\----------

Ocelot taking a shortcut down a little-used hall on the opposite side of the base? Sure sounds like provoke-the-hot-ghost-o'-clock to Mantis.

"Oh, for the love of—" Ocelot thrashes against the invisible bonds suddenly holding him aloft. "Gahhh!"

The response is instantaneous. Tendrils of cold light seize Mantis by his wrists and ankles and pull him spread-eagled with nearly enough violence to dislocate his limbs from their sockets.

" _Fuck_ yes," he gasps.

The ghost's not-voice is a blast of thunder rattling Mantis's skull. **How many times must I teach you this lesson? If I didn't know better, I'd say you _like_ being punished!**

Mantis heaves an exasperated sigh. "Do I have to spell it out for you, you clueless old fossil? I. Want. You. To. _Screw._ Me."

The ghost stares at him, mouth ajar.

That expression is what makes it all click into place for Mantis. It's almost identical to the face Ocelot made when he thought he'd been struck with a bout of incontinence.

He rasps out a wild laugh. "Un. Be. Lievable. _The_ Revolver Ocelot's very own dear old daddy, back from the spirit world to protect him from the one bully no living human can fight back against. Let me guess: you plan to get the school board involved next?"

The ghost presses his lips into a thin line. **You really seem to lack a sense of self-preservation.**

"What're you gonna do, tie me up with more of these glowy ecto-tentacles of yours? Do I look like the kind of guy who doesn't enjoy being tied up? Be honest, now."

The tendrils give a sharp warning tug. Mantis's breath jerks out of him at the bolt of pain through his joints. He shudders out a moan.

"I'll cut you a deal, Gramps," he pants. "Give me one good tentacle-pounding and I'll stop tormenting your poor helpless little boy. Mostly," he adds under his breath.

The ghost is looking more uncertain by the second.

"Better hurry. Boss'll be back from his duties soon." Mantis cocks his head to one side. "On second thought, take your time. Bet he'd love to watch."

That spurs the ghost into action. Like some otherworldly sapling, a tendril sprouts from the floor beneath Mantis, swiftly coiling up toward him. The tip phases right through the seat of his pants. Neat.

**Just this once. Then you leave my boy alone.**

"Of course, of course," says Mantis generously.

The tendril prods at him, slow, hesitant. A hiss escapes his clenched teeth at the shock of cold. He wriggles impatiently, trying to force more of the thing inside him. "Get on with it already! For fuck's sake, _I'm_ going to be a ghost by the time you _aa-haahhhh_!"

Now, this is more like it! Fucked open without mercy or restraint. He's used fantasy-creature toys on himself before, but always kind of wished he had a real tentacle monster or something around. Well, a foxy dead grandpa with spirit-tentacles is close enough for government work.

As he writhes and whines, he notices the ghost lean forward, just a bit.

From above, a new tendril undulates into Mantis's field of vision and phases its tip through the muzzle of his mask. Understanding at once, he snaps his mouth open so wide his jaw aches.

Ice in his throat. Ice in his ass. Makes for a nice contrast with the pulsing heat in his dick as he humps the inside of his leather pants, savoring the harsh friction. Oh, yeah. You'd better believe he's going commando for this.

But nothing can beat the fact that Grampa Spooky over here is obviously getting into it, eyes half-lidded, mouth hanging slightly open. Mantis knows just what image he's calling up next time he plows himself with a silicone tentacle.

<Into younger men, are we?> he asks in thought-speak, on account of the tendril ravaging his esophagus. <Hot.>

The ghost says nothing. That's all right. The way his eyes flick off to one side is all the answer Mantis needs.

And all it takes to push him over the edge. He cums with a full-body jolt, hips jerking down onto the tendril wrecking his ass, drool spilling in little waterfalls from the corners of his overstuffed mouth.

Casper the Sexy Ghost feigns disinterest, but there's no mistaking the reluctance with which he withdraws the tendrils from Mantis's orifices, slick with spit and the spirit-tentacle equivalent of lube.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Mantis croaks, "Y'know, old man, if you're ever feeling... lonely... you know where to find me."

All at once, his limbs are hanging free. The ghost is nowhere to be seen.

For now, in any case, thinks Mantis with a smirk.

\----------

Seated at the edge of the bed, Liquid starts unlacing his boots. <Did you have fun without me today?>

<Lots,> Mantis says smugly. <I fucked that ghost from the other day.>

With a growl, Liquid pulls off his boot and chucks it at him. <You and your damn ghost!>

 


End file.
